The Sixth Grader
by chinyemagne
Summary: Helga has a once-in-a-lifetime experience and, in the process, learns a lesson and advances the virtually nonexistant relationship between she and Arnold.
1. Suspicions

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Standardized Disclaimer: I, Chinyere, hereby acknowledge that I do not own Hey Arnold! nor the characters that are referenced within, nor am I a hired writer with permission to use their names on this site. However, there is a likelihood that original characters will be created and portrayed within this text. Thank you.

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The Sixth Grader

Part I: Suspicions

Phoebe and I were walking home from a baseball game down in Gerald Field the day that I felt something very strange was going on. I mean, usually I'm not too paranoid about people following me or breathing down my back, because it's almost always Brainy, and I'd just sock him in the nose. I didn't feel any breathing this time, but I just had that feeling…like I was being watched or something.

"Well Phoebs, there ends another great game. I still think we should've made it a shut out, instead of mercying them," I said, tossing my baseball into the air. Phoebe watched as I caught the ball every time, and then adjusted her glasses much in the way she always does.

"I don't know if I would call that truly mercying, Helga. After all, they only had one home run," Phoebe reasoned, letting her bat drag on the ground, making an annoying scratching sound.

I sighed, shaking my head, thinking back to the last homer. "Yeah, and that was just a lucky one, too…shouldn'a made it at all," I said, before cutting a sharp glance at Phoebe. "And stop dragging that stupid bat on the ground…you're making me nervous," I shouted at her, though not meaning to.

Phoebe lifted the bat from the ground and swung it over her shoulder. "Stopping!" We continued walking towards my house, in silence, until finally Phoebe made one of her astute observations. "I don't know, Helga, seems like you're a little bit more---high strung---than you usually are. Are you sure that Arnold's bat didn't hit you harder than you thought?" she said, looking up at me as we rounded a corner.

I had forgotten about that! I rubbed my head where it was still slightly tender and remembered the way that Arnold had held my head in his hands until he was sure that I could see straight again. "Ah, well, it barely grazed me, Phoebe. Jeez, you're acting like I'm going delusional here," I chuckled nervously as we continued on the way home. I still was incredibly uneasy, though, and I looked for somewhere to hide, perhaps where I wasn't so out in the open, where I could tell Phoebe exactly what I felt. I then saw the alley through which I could get to the back lot of my house.

I glanced behind me; seeing that no one was apparently watching me, I grabbed Phoebe by the arm and ran into the alley. Once we reached the alley, I slowed to a casual walk and let go of Phoebe's arm. Phoebe rubbed her arm where I grabbed it and glared at me. "Gee, Helga, what was that all about?" she asked, looking at her arm as if I left a mark.

"Shhhhh!" I hissed at Phoebe, still looking around me. I then ducked behind a garbage can and Phoebe followed me. "Listen, Phoebs, I don't know how to say this, but…for the past few days now, I don't know…it feels like I'm being…followed."

Phoebe looked at me strangely before she started to giggle. As her giggling erupted into laughter, I scowled at her. The laughter was abrupt. "Oh, sorry Helga, it's just that…your notion is so ridiculous!"

"And what, _pray tell_, is so ridiculous about it?" I growled, beginning to get annoyed.

"Oh, nothing, Helga…I suppose fears of being followed are founded, but…_you_?" she began giggling again, but again cut it short. "I never would have guessed that you could be teetering on the brink of paranoia."

I grabbed Phoebe by the collar and pulled her closer to me. "But you don't get it, Phoebe!" I said, whispering loudly. I looked around again, and then spoke even more softly. "You know how I always know when Brainy's around me, right? Well, I'm almost certain that someone is here now. I'm pretty sure Phoebs, got that?" I then let go of Phoebe, and she adjusted her collar before thinking on it.

Phoebe then began to giggle again, but didn't stop when I scowled at her. "Yeah, and I'm pretty sure you got smacked upside the head with that bat _pretty_ hard, Helga. Relax! I mean, who would be following _you_ around?" I raised my eyebrow at Phoebe, and then she stuttered, realizing what she had just said. "I mean…I didn't mean for it to come out…well…no offense."

"None taken," I said, half-truthfully, as I held out my hand for Phoebe to get me from behind the garbage cans. It was half-truthfully because it did sting a little. By now, I was the only one in the fifth grade who hadn't been paired up at least once. I mean, sure, there was Stinky in the fourth grade, but a relationship based on daily Mr. Nutty Bars doesn't really count. "Maybe you're right, Phoebs…maybe I'm just a little bit delusional. Maybe I need to take an aspirin and lie down for a while, and maybe this will all go away."

Phoebe nodded. "Here Helga, I'll make sure you don't pass out again," she said, giggling.

I had to start laughing, too. "Oh yeah, and Phoebe…_smacked upside the head_?" I mocked.

Phoebe blushed, and I knew I had gotten her. "Oh, I guess I just picked that up from Gerald, that's all," she said, bowing her head.

As we walked out of the alley, and to the back lot of my house, I felt slightly better. For one, the nagging feeling that I was being followed was gone, but mainly, my head did not hurt so much any more. But, I didn't know that this incident was only the beginning of an experience I know I will love and dread for the rest of my life. 

"Hey Phoebs, get a load of the stooges," I said the next day at school as we entered the playground early that morning. Practically the entire fifth grade class was crowded around the foursquare court, watching like they'd never seen a game of foursquare before. "I wonder what's _so_ interesting."

Phoebe stopped in her tracks and observed the group. "Well, it appears as if the game is not the object of interest as much as those, or should I say, he who is playing it, is," Phoebe finally concluded.

"Well duh, Phoebe," I said, as I squinted at the crowd. Besides the shouts from the actual game, there was a low mumble surrounding the group. It was too intriguing to pass by, so I relented and followed the crowd for once. "Ah well, we might as well go see what all the _fuss_ is about. C'mon Phoebs." With that, I led Phoebe to the foursquare court just in time to hear the Rhonda's voice over the rest of the crowd.

"Yeah, well, I heard he almost spent two years up at Juvi, but that his rich uncle came and rescued him, but he was forbidden to go back to his old school, and that's why he's here now," Rhonda recounted, her eyes halfway closed. "Then it'd be no wonder why he came so late in the school year."

As I advanced toward the center of the group, I pushed ahead in the crowd. "Step aside, _Princess_, I gotta see what's going on here," I said the Rhonda, but she wouldn't move.

She gasped, as if what I had just said was unbelievable. "You mean, you don't _know_?"

I glared at her. "Oh yeah, so what if I _don't_?" I growled, showing my teeth. Rhonda, as usual, did not respond to my hostilities.

"Well, Helga, if you knew _anything_ whatsoever of the social circle in this school, you would have known by now. But, I guess that's why I'm here…to inform the lowly," she said, tossing her head towards the sky. I rolled my eyes. "Well, if you must know, the sixth grade new boy is back."

Finding this information quite immaterial, I glanced at Phoebe, who shrugged. "And we're supposed to care because…" I said, widening my eyes at Rhonda.

Nadine spoke up. "He got off with only one week's suspension after cussing out Principal Wartz, and he's back now," Nadine said, returning her attention to the crowd, even though she could see absolutely nothing over the head in front of her. She sighed. "It's like, he's all of a sudden the most popular guy at school or something."

"He is, Nadine!" Rhonda corrected, as she too returned to the group. "I don't know why, though…he certainly doesn't dress in the latest fashions. I mean, look at him. Bad boy wear was _so_ last year," Rhonda said, shaking her head and folding her arms.

Suddenly, Lila stepped in from another side of the crowd. "He's not very nice either," she added, rubbing her arm and looking sort of scruffy. "I was walking in the hall this morning and accidentally bumped into him, and I excused myself, but he pushed me back anyway."

"And he certainly isn't law-abiding," Sheena came forward to say. "He makes it a point _not _to throw his garbage in the trash cans."

This was all very foreign to me. They talked as if they really didn't like him at all. "So, what's the big deal with this guy, if he's got all these faults?"

"Are you kidding, Helga! He's an absolute, total hottie," Rhonda affirmed. All of the girls surrounding Rhonda nodded their heads and agreed in a low murmur. Whoa…this was something I had to see.

"Hmm, a hottie, huh? This I gotta see. C'mon, Phoebs…let's go see if this guy is all he's cracked up to be," I said, turning to where I thought I'd find Phoebe. I turned back to see that she was already pushing her way through the crowds. I followed closely behind her, ignoring the scowls and the jeers of those who I pushed. When I finally got to the front of the crowd, it was obvious whom everyone was watching. I heard Phoebe gasp in surprise when she reached the front of the crowd, and I looked to.

He was tall, but not so tall, just taller than the rest. His black hair hung in loose curls over his forehead, and over the tips of his ears. His face was slightly angular; his brown eyes narrow with intensity, his lips drawn. His ears stuck out a little, but weren't too big. He was kind of dark, like he had been in the sun all of his life, but not sunburned. He was kind of bulky, like he'd been lifting weights since he was a kid or something, but he wasn't fat. He had removed his jacket and was now wearing a clean, white tank top, lying loosely over his large, junky jeans. And while I stared at him, trying to see what he was all about, he stopped whatever it was he was doing, and he stared back at me.

As we glared at each other, his eyes softened and opened slightly wider, and I was able to see the dark brown of his eye. He stepped forward, and I stepped back, and the crowd grew silent, watching the two of us. It was like some kind of odd dance, between us two. By now, the crowd had shifted so only we were at the center, rounding the foursquare court but never coming into contact. It was when we stopped and I had a chance to really take a look at him that I came to a realization…that he was not my type.

I put my hands on my hips and grunted. "What! Is this it? I was expecting to see more than…this. Jeez, what a _grand_ waste of my time!" And with that, I turned my back on him, with no intention of repeating that little ritual ever again. "You comin' Phoebe," I called as I walked from the crowd.

"Um…coming," Phoebe said absently, giggling as she left the scene of our little display. I trudged to the school entrance, just as the warning bell rang for us to go back to class. I didn't realize it yet, walking back to class with my usual scowl, but when I walked away from that court, from the crowd, from those eyes…I had become the most popular girl at PS 118.

Later that day, as I was doing my geometry in Ms. Lawry's class, I heard Rhonda starting something in the back of the room. I could hear hushed whispers and momentary giggles from her corner, and every time I looked in their direction, suddenly, nothing was funny. I raised an eyebrow at them, but pretty much ignored them from then on. Rhonda and I, from the beginning of the fifth grade, had this kind of inherent rivalry…for control. She was as convinced that she could rule with her looks and money as I was with my leadership, my authority…and my iron fist. So, if she were saying something about me, I immediately became suspicious…but I didn't want to let on that I was. So, I kept my head in my math book and identified the triangle…acute, obtuse or isosceles.

Arnold usually sat in the middle of the class with Gerald, but I guess since Gerald wasn't there, he scooted up with me. This really surprised me, because usually, at least for the past year, Arnold has been avoiding me…talking to me directly, at least. I mean, he'd play a game of baseball, maybe football, with me, something that didn't actually require talking. Or, he'd do a project, if he absolutely had to. But, in terms of talking to me…not much. It was like he was scared of me or something.

He spoke first. "Whoa, Helga, I thought you said you were no good in math, and you've got half the assignment done already," Arnold noticed, looking at my sheet of paper. I knew he was making small talk to introduce a topic more serious, and I was impatient.

"Well, if you heard that, I sure didn't tell you, since you haven't really _said_ anything to me the entire year, Arnold," I edged. His face dropped, and he flushed a little, as he knew exactly what I was talking about. "Anyway, I know you didn't scoot up here to talk to me about math. So whatever it is, spill it."

After that, Arnold didn't hesitate. "Do you know Jeremy?" he said, scooting even closer to me.

I shrugged. "That really doesn't tell me anything, Arnold. I think I have a cousin named Jeremy," I said, scratching my head.

"I mean, Jeremy Fischer," Arnold clarified. That still didn't mean anything to me, and I gave him a blank look. "You know…the guy this morning, in the four ball court, you must have seen him…"

"What, the sixth grader?" I asked, remembering the big hunk of nothing that everyone had made such a big deal about. I then started thinking…why did Arnold care whether or not I knew Jeremy or not? "What's it to _you_?"

Arnold scratched his head. "Well, the way you guys were _looking_ at each other this morning, I thought that maybe you were long lost friends or something…"

"_And_?"

"…and I thought that maybe, if you were friends, you could ask him if we could get the foursquare court back during recess," Arnold finished. It figured. Arnold was so simple sometimes…all he wanted was the foursquare court, then why didn't he ask for it?

"Well then, _Football Head_, why don't you ask him for the court yourself? You certainly don't need _me_ to do anything for you, since his highness can only talk to certain people now," I said, knowing that I could get Arnold with a statement like that. I looked back at him, and he was still looking at me like he wanted a piece of information. "And not that it's _any_ of your business, Hair Boy, but I've never met that _Jeremy_ dude before in my life," I said, writing my name on top of my math homework and taking it up to the homework bin to be turned in early. "And frankly, I don't know what all the fuss is about, anyway."

I don't think Arnold knew I was looking, but I saw him heave a sigh. Like a sigh of relief. I didn't know what that was at the time, so I just ignored it. He returned to his seat after gaining this little piece of information, and I sat down at mine and read a note that Phoebe had passed to me while I was gone. And Arnold and I returned to the state we had been in all year…comfortable silence. Except now, I felt somewhat awkward…Football Head and Hair Boy had almost become pet names, and it had been so long since we were that familiar.

That evening, I had dinner at the Heyerdahl's and got to help make dinner with Phoebe's mom and dad. That was cool. After dinner was over, Phoebe walked me to the door, with a thermos in her hands. I walked outside, and immediately paused because I had that feeling again…but I didn't want to think anything of it. I had forced myself to ignore it all day…in the halls at school, at recess, on the way to Phoebe's…but it had followed me around. So, I forced my mind to change the subject.

"Hey Phoebs, what's with the thermos?" I asked casually as we walked down the stairs together, Phoebe lugging the thermos over her shoulder.

Phoebe grunted, but continued walking in small, quick steps behind me. "Oh, this is just some of my Grandmother's special recipe, cold remedy soup. Fresh ingredients and everything," Phoebe said proudly as we progressed. "Mrs. Johannsen said Gerald had a cold or something, so I volunteered my Grandmother's soup."

I didn't say anything. I was too caught up in my own thoughts to worry about Gerald and Phoebe's relationship. When I didn't respond, Phoebe looked up at me, and I shot her a quick smirk as if I was mocking her relationship with Gerald. Phoebe just giggled, like she always did, and blushed. That got her mind off of my preoccupation really quickly. One thing I can say about Gerald and Phoebe is that they have had the longest lasting relationship in elementary school history, lasting from almost the beginning of the fourth grade. But, they have always kept it low key. I don't understand them. Like, if Arnold and I were ever to have a relationship, I would tell the world…and I guess that might be one reason why Arnold and I don't have any relationship…not even like what we had in fourth grade, when I pestered him.

These thoughts took my mind off of the whole paranoia notion for a while, until Phoebe awakened my senses again when she spoke. "Well Helga, I'll see you later, then," she said suddenly, going in the opposite direction of my house.

I snapped out of my thought-provoked daze, quickly. "Huh, where you going, Phoebs?"

Phoebe shook her head. "I just told you, Helga, I have to drop this at Gerald's. I'll see you tomorrow at school, okay?" she said, casting a look of concern at me. I dodged it by turning my head in the direction of my house.

"Oh yeah, sure Phoebe. See ya," I mumbled. With that, Phoebe turned the other way. I was now utterly alone, except for the few passers by who walked through the neighborhood. The sky was bright orange as the sun was setting, kind of like the bright orange it is before a bad storm. There was no ceiling to speak of, and a few wispy clouds lingered in the sunset. As I walked to my house, the route in which I knew instinctively without looking, I glared up at the sky. I thought about a lot of things, mainly Arnold. I thought about how I regretted that he felt really uncomfortable speaking to me, and how somehow, I now felt the same. I thought about how things seemed worse now that he knew how I felt. I thought about how terrible secrets were, if only a few people knew, than if no one else knew. My thoughts became incoherent as I looked up at the sky, and the clouds blended with the orange, which engulfed the blue, which cascaded in the east into a dim twilight.

Suddenly, this image was shaken from me. I was grabbed roughly by the arm and dragged into the alley nearby the house. And I was dead scared.


	2. Pet Name

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Part II: A Pet Name

After I was done screaming and flailing around and after I was let go, I finally opened my eyes to see who my assumed abductor was. My eyes had been closed tightly, so my vision was blurred a little, so I rubbed my eyes. I gasped when I saw who it actually was.

"Whoa kid, take it easy. You don't have to go ballistic on me," he said, holding out his hand.

I flung the hand away from me, and glared at him. "_You_…you're that sixth grader, that Jeremy guy," I said, relaxing slightly as I knew I remotely knew who this guy was.

He looked surprised, not at the fact that I flung away his hand, but the fact that I knew his name. "Oh, so you know who I am, huh?" he asked casually, leaning against the wall of the alley.

"Well yeah, I know who you are…since you're supposedly the most popular guy in school nowadays; that's all they talk about over at PS 118," I said, folding my arms and looking at him.

He smirked and nodded his head absently. "Cool."

"Cool? Is that all you've got to say for yourself…_cool_?" I said, feeling the rage heightening within me. Here I was, innocently trying to go home from my best friend's house, and some weirdo from my school pounced me. Needless to say, it wasn't a fun evening. "Who are you _for real_ anyway, man? What's your deal?" I demanded, getting closer to this Jeremy guy and poking him in the stomach.

He raised an eyebrow at me, and then chuckled like he really didn't care what I thought at all. "You want the truth, or do you want me to dress it up and make it pretty?" he asked, taking a stick of gum out of his pocket, throwing the wrapper on the ground, and then accentuating his chewing. "I figure you want the truth, considering the way you're lookin' at me now," he remarked. "Anyway, I know a bunch of stuff about you, kid."

This took me off guard. How can he, this person I just met, know a lot of stuff about me when I knew nothing about him? "You don't know me, 'cause I don't know you," I retorted. I don't know…the reasoning made a lot more sense at the time.

Jeremy pushed himself from the wall and walked toward me. Again, I stepped back. "Well, for starters, I know that your name is Helga. Helga G. Pataki. I know I like your name," Jeremy began, walking towards me and looking at me intensely. I didn't know what to do…this had certainly never happened to me before, so I looked away. "You live right over there, in that old blue house, with your mother Miriam and your father Bob, the beeper salesman. You are in the fifth grade, and your teacher is Ms. Lawry. Your best friend is Phoebe Heyerdahl."

I halfway expected him to continue, but for some reason, he stopped there abruptly. I looked at him, and I stopped moving away. At that moment, I was no longer afraid of him. Didn't mean I wasn't totally freaked out by the situation, but Jeremy Fischer was no longer scary. "So, when I had the feeling someone was following me around, all that time it was you, wasn't it?" I asked him, scratching my head, trying to see the entire situation in my head.

He nodded. "Yeah, it was me," he shrugged, like it was no big deal.

"Well listen, _Jeremy_, I don't like being the object of some strangers obsession, so, if you would excuse me, I have to go home…" I began, and started to walk towards my own house. I stopped in my tracks because he didn't try to pursue me, didn't tell me to wait, stop, or run after me. When I turned back, he was in the exact same place in the alley, just standing there. "Well, what do you want?"

"You're not the least bit curious about why I'm here?" he asked, stepping slightly into the light outside of the dark alley.

I thought for a second. "No, not really," I said, and tried to walk away again. Then, curiosity got the better of me. "Why?"

He stepped out of the alley, and got even closer to me. I really got nervous. He then bent down slightly to my level, placed his lips next to my ear, and whispered, "I wanted to know…what does the G in your middle name stand for?"

Before I had the chance to wonder why he was asking such a random question or consider not answering it, I found myself saying it. "Geraldine." With that, he backed away from me, nodded, and ran off back into the alley. I slapped my hand over my mouth, and cursed myself for letting him talk to me so easily. I should have given him hell. As I walked through the back lot to my house, I beat myself up for it. But, I can't explain it, it was so hard. When someone has a genuine interest in…something…it is _so _hard to refuse the information, you know? And, no one really ever cared what the G stood for, anyway…

"Hey Kid, want me to carry your books for you?" I was asked suddenly when I was walking to school the next day. I didn't even have to look back, because I knew who it was. Jeremy.

"No, I don't need you or _anybody_ to carry my books for me, but thank you so much for asking," I said between clenched teeth, trying not to become angry. I didn't like this, not one bit. I wanted to walk to school, live my life in peace, and all of a sudden I was being followed around by this big bulky dude that could block out all of the sunlight on my path to school. This was really annoying.

He chuckled, and then quickly jumped in front of me and began to walk backwards. I squinted at him as he traversed. "I know you're probably annoyed as hell with me, wish I was dead, all that good stuff. That's cool," he shrugged, and then turned back around and walked besides me. I looked at him oddly…this guy didn't care about anything, did he?

"What do you mean, _that's cool_? So, if I spit in your face and asked you a little less than politely to drop dead, you would think that's okay?" I asked, stopping in my tracks and putting my hand on my hip, dropping one of my books as I did.

Jeremy knelt to pick it up. "Sure, why not?" he shrugged, before snatching the rest of the books out of my hand. I began to protest slightly, but then he put his finger to my lips, and I stopped. I growled at him, then tossed my head indignantly as he balanced my books atop his head, far from where I could reach them. I should have resisted more, instead of being so willing to claim defeat, but I didn't. Only one other person had ever volunteered to carry my books for me, Arnold, and that was so long ago.

"What I don't get, Jeremy, is why you're so interested in who I am and stuff, and why you're always popping up when I least expect it?" I asked him, as we came to an intersection we had to cross.

He walked assertively, with all of my books balanced perfectly on his head. I couldn't help but chuckle a little at how people stared at him strangely as we crossed the street. "Well Kid, the reason why I'm always popping up is because I'm staying with a cousin who lives right across the street from you so I can go to school here. I can see your front porch from my bedroom window." he said, as he successfully made it across the street and continued walking. "And I'm so interested in who you are and stuff because I'm so interested in you," he said nonchalantly, just like if he had just said he was interested in science or something. Again, I was caught completely off guard. This time, I choked on my spit.

After I was able to regain my speaking ability, I yelled at him, "What do you mean you're interested in me? You hardly even know who I am!"

"And that's why I caught you yesterday and asked what the G stood for. I'm going to get to know you, Kid, whether you like it or not. And your gonna get to know me, too," he said, suddenly picking up his pace. I didn't notice it, but instead of walking to the bus stop like I wanted to do initially, I had absentmindedly let Jeremy walk to school.

Before I realized this, I asked him another question. "How come you're following me around? Why don't you tag along with some of those phony sixth grader girls, who plaster their faces with check-out isle make-up and pad their bras with Charmin extra soft," I edged, eyeing him.

"For exactly that reason. Who wants 'em…they try way too hard," he said, looking down at me and somehow keeping the books balanced on his head. "Anyway, you've got everything they haven't got, and more. You have spunk, you're not afraid to say exactly what you feel. You're tough, and you're not too girly, but girly enough so I can know you're a girl. You've got an odd type of class about you and you're independent. You're like me, I guess," he concluded.

I put both of my hands on my hips. "Oh yeah, and how's that, _Jemie_," I sneered, finding an abbreviated spite name to call him. Again, he didn't flinch, as if he didn't care.

"Well, it's like we're both rebelling, rebelling against what people think of us, so that they never know quite what to think of us," he rattled off. I stopped in my tracks and thought for a moment. Yeah, that was kind of what I was doing, in a way. I never wanted people to know exactly what I was about, exactly the reason why I kept that whole Arnold thing a secret for so long. I knew the thought must have shown on my face.

Jeremy gave me back my books. "I suppose you want these back now, considering we're at school." This startled me, and I looked up and we were standing just yards away from the main entrance, and people were already gathered there, staring at us. Immediately I was compelled to kick Jeremy in the shin, and run away from the scene so that people would think I didn't like him or something. But suddenly, I didn't care, much like Jeremy didn't. I wanted to keep them guessing, so they wouldn't know exactly what was going on. So, I played along, smirked at Jeremy, and started to walk towards the school.

"Well, I guess I'll see you around then, _Jemie_," I said, enunciating the spite name.

"By the way…don't call me Jemie. I _hate_ that," he said a little bit more loudly, as I got nearer to the school.

I shrugged. "Well, I hate Kid, so I guess we're even." With that, I tossed my head and entered the school, and a bunch of people, little more than agape mouths, followed closely behind me.

The rest of the week and into the next continued much in the same way. We made a ritual out of it. Sometimes, we would walk to school, and Jemie would find a new way to carry my books. Other times, he would get his older brother, who owned this _sweet_ black drop top, to drive us to school. By the beginning of the next week, we had barely exhausted the possibilities. We rode our bikes to school that time.

By this time, us two were very much the talk of the school, even though the only time we were seen together was during recess. This was because, last week, Jemie challenged me to a game of foursquare, one on one, and whoever had the best out of five games won. Well, it took us a very long time to play those five games, and when we finally did, he won. Frustrated, I challenged him to every other game that could be played on the playground, and so everyday we would skip lunch and play another game. This was all over by the next week, as we had lost track of who won what.

So, once again at lunch, I joined Phoebe at our usual table, with my light lunch bag that Miriam had hastily packed upon forgetting again this morning. Phoebe grinned widely at me as I sat down. "Well, long time, no see Helga," she said hoarsely as she scooted in closer to me, looking at me strangely.

I looked up at Phoebe and laughed. "Whoa Phoebs, you're hoarse!"

"I know," she smiled, slyly, narrowing her eyes.

I began to chuckle. "You've got a cold, haven't you?"

"Well, actually, it's the tail end of the virus; I'm only hoarse now and still slightly congested, but the worst has passed," Phoebe said, covering her mouth with her fist to clear her throat. "I doubt that I'm still contagious at this late stage of the virus."

I looked across the lunchroom where Arnold and Gerald were sitting with some other boys in our class. "Let me guess…you picked it up from _Geraldo_, didn't you?"

Phoebe began to giggle, before she had to stop because she started coughing. I patted her on her back and handed her juice to her. "Thanks, Helga," she grumbled, quickly drinking the juice. "Anyway, it wasn't really my fault, because by the end of the week, his whole family contracted it, along with me," she clarified.

"Uh-huh, _sure_, Phoebs," I teased her, as I opened my lunch bag. Inside, was a thermos filled with chicken grease and one of the pieces of toast she had burned for Bob that morning. "Oh _Miriam_," I sighed, getting up and throwing the bag in the trash and emptying the thermos of grease in there as well. I sat back down, frustrated and hungry, and looked at Phoebe, who at this time was giggling hysterically. "What is it now, Phoebe?"

Phoebe then pointed to a bruise I had on my arm. "And I suppose you picked _that_ up from someone, too," she said, resting her face in her hands and calming her giggling, awaiting my response.

I looked at the bruise…I had forgotten it was there. But then, I remembered how I had gotten it. "Oh yeah, I got this when me and Jemie were playing basketball, one on one…"

"You and _Jemie_?" Phoebe questioned.

I looked at her oddly, not knowing what she was getting at. "Yeah, Jemie and I. Anyway, he fouled me to make a three-pointer and I scratched him back. Can't remember who won, though," I concluded. When I finished, Phoebe was still narrowing her eyes at me, and smiling slyly again. "Hey, what're you driving at, _Phoebs_?" I edged, realizing she was finding some kind of amusement out of the entire situation.

"Oh, nothing Helga, nothing at all," she lied, leaning back in her chair. "Except that you and Jeremy Fischer have become…how should I put this…increasingly comfortable with one another. I mean, you calling him Jemie, him calling you Kid."

Normally, I would have gotten mad and defensive, but I had come to expect this kind of response to Jemie and I for the past week. "Well, if you mean I'm not scared or intimidated by him or anything, no, I'm not. And I wouldn't call it comfort---I've gotten used to him, yes, but it's not like I _wanted_ to. I would rather have him off my back, to tell you the truth. And Jemie is more like a spite name than anything else," I retorted. Phoebe didn't seem to be moved by this explanation.

"I don't think I'd call that a spite name, Helga. Seems more like a _pet name_ to me," Phoebe concluded. My face dropped…I hadn't considered those connotations before. "You know, kind of like 'Football Head' and 'Hair Boy' and 'Goof Wad'…"

Phoebe stopped abruptly for some reason, and started giggling again. I looked up to see who I had expected to see. He had two lunches in his hand, and he set one down before me, and then put the other beside me, where he sat down. "Hey," he addressed Phoebe. "You're Phoebe, right? I'm Jeremy," he said, shaking Phoebe's hand. Phoebe, who was one of the hopeless fifth graders entranced by Jeremy's "looks," began giggling again and the handshake was quite weak. I rolled my eyes at her, as he withdrew his hand from hers. Then, suddenly, I felt his hand in the right pocket of my jeans. I jumped slightly, and slapped his hand away.

"Hey, what's the idea?" I said, as I felt a bulge in my pocket. When I took it out, there were a series of bills, folded neatly together. Before Jemie covered my hands back up, Phoebe had seen the money, and gasped.

Jemie forced them back into my pocket, and made me sit back down. "Don't flash money like that…you wanna get mugged or something?" he said harshly, looking around to see if anyone else had seen. No one hinted at it, so he sat back down with me. "And you didn't see nothin' either, got that?" he said at Phoebe, who just nodded meekly at the scene of the exchange.

I was now confused. "What is this for? I can't take this," I said, almost ready to remove the bills from my pocket before he snatched my hand again.

"You don't have money, do you?" he whispered sharply.

"No."

"Well then, take it, it's yours, and don't ask me where I got it from."

"But seriously…"

"It's twenty bucks," he whispered to me, although it was audible to Phoebe.

Jeez, twenty bucks. I'd take it. "Oh, in that case…" I said, straightening my posture and acting as if nothing had happened. I then proceeded to eat my food, and glanced over at Phoebe. She was still a bit uneasy at the last transaction. She also continued to eat her food silently, while Jemie and I argued about who would win the next match in Wrestle Mania, and I concluded that he was an absolute idiot for thinking Slobbering Sam could ever win. That was the last time during this whole ordeal that Phoebe and I really talked, and I had no idea why.


	3. Denial

****

Part III: Denial

As the weeks passed us by, Jemie and I did become more "buddy-buddy" toward one another, much as Phoebe had observed. I didn't see the comfort level myself, until we were there. My daily protests to him walking me to and from school lessened until I accepted that fact that he would do it _anyway_, so I relented. He came over my house at dinner time at least twice a week, despite the fact that he was never invited, but that soon became okay because I could ignore him across the table while he and Bob talked about the business world or football or something…Big-bobish like that. 

I was startled out of indifference by a sudden banging on the kitchen table as Bob and Jemie continued one of their oh-so interesting conversations. After the initial surprise, I sank back into the slump I had been in and began eating my food, chewing it until the texture disgusted me and I swallowed. I really did not enjoy dinners at which Bob was excited…this required of Mom and I some sort of response.

"So, Mr. Pataki, I take it that you don't think the Blues will recruit that senior running back from Hilwood University, then," Jemie concluded from Bob's sudden outburst, as the two continued their conversation about the local football team. Usually, I found a little interest in the team, but after a couple of hours of discussion, I could really care less.

I then glanced at Big Bob, whose face was flushed from intense conversation. "Heck yeah, I do. That is, if the Blues know what's good for them. If they swing that recruit, we're headed towards the big time, I'm telling you," Bob reasoned, swinging a piece of meat loaf off of his plate, a piece that landed on my lap. I sighed, wiping it off with my napkin onto the floor and continuing to stare at the two of them as they continued their discussion.

Jemie wiped his mouth and pushed his once stacked plate of food away from him, and thought for a second. "Well, I don't know, sir…I think the Blues have had their eye on this guy from Michigan, their old quarterback…I think if they can recruit _him_, they're going to leave the Hilwood guy alone," Jemie decided.

For a while, Big Bob was silent at his arraignment, and picked at his teeth aimlessly as he thought about what Jemie said. I didn't know at that point whether Dad was going to explode from anger of being contradicted or what. But, after a little more silence, he smiled and laughed a little as he ruffled Jemie's hair. "By gosh, boy, that's a very intelligent observation. Did you hear that, Miriam? This boy's a stinking football expert!" Bob exclaimed, taking pride in Jemie as if he were his own…relative…or something.

I glanced over at Miriam, who I'd normally expect to be dozing over her plate, to hear her response. For some reason, as I'd noticed earlier, whenever Jemie was around, she would force herself awake and eye him keenly. "Uh-huh, B, I heard that alright," she said shrewdly, sipping on a glass of ice water that she poured into her usual wine glass. Somehow, I knew what was coming next.

"Hey girl…I mean, Helga," Dad addressed me. I perked up and looked at him as he spoke. "This is the kind of example I want _you_ to follow. Not necessarily in football, but this guy's on the ball! He knows what he's talking about…that's dedication, Olga, dedication. You could take a few pointers outta that book," he said, scraping his fork against his plate as he ate his last bits of food.

"Sure, Dad, whatever you say," I responded flatly, as I then glanced at Miriam. Much the same as she had done during nights when Jemie frequented the house, she took the napkin from her lap, wiped her mouth, and scooted from under the table.

"If you would excuse me B, Helga…Jemie, I have some matters to attend to. Enjoy the rest of your meal," she said curtly, walking briskly into the hallway and up the stairs. It had been common, for the past few weeks, for Miriam to excuse herself whenever I was invited into Jemie's and Dad's conversations. I never quite understood that.

"Hmm…what's eating her," Bob would always say, before shoveling another spoon full of food into his mouth. And I would just shrug, but I would wonder, too.

On the weekends, Jemie would introduce me to some of "the guys," the sixth graders from 118 and other surrounding schools and some random dudes he met at the Y. I would always go for a good game of basketball, which was the sport that I seemed to be really falling in love with—Jemie was just an accessory. When I was on the courts, I would forget about everything, who I was playing with, where I was, and I was _so _into the game, I swear.

One Saturday we went over to 119's playground, where they were holding a tournament of sorts to prepare for a bigger one that would be held later, once the fall season began next year. With this new environment, he had a new set of friends to introduce me to. I glared at them as they eyed me leeringly, gritting my teeth at them behind a fake smile.

"So yeah, and this is Helga, my better half," he said midway through the introductions, after naming off all of his obscure friends. That annoyed the hell out of me whenever he said that, even if it were sarcastic, because I knew what he was implying; that I was his girlfriend.

"He wishes he were me, that's all that is, guys," I said quickly, as the guys I met would laugh. And this became a tradition…the one statement did not go unaccompanied by the other. Old as that joke got, the guys got a kick out of it every time. I eventually stopped playing basketball with the guys too much, though, because they began covertly congratulating Jemie for _me_, which sickened me to the core.

Then sometimes Jemie and I would ride our bikes around the park. To keep from having to talk to him, I would race him. Other times he would take me to the movies, and I would always pick the most popular, crowded movie to see and buy a big tub of popcorn to place between us. That way, he couldn't try any funny stuff. Once, he got us some tickets to Wrestle Mania, awesome seats. I usually went with Harold whenever there was a show in town, a tradition that had started in the fourth grade, but lately at school, he was nowhere to be found. I never wondered why—I just though it was a coincidence that I had become estranged from my classmates at the same time Jemie became a parasite.

And all this time, every minute we spent together, I abhorred it, because I still didn't like him. I mean, he was being so good to me, at least in my mind at the time, with the outings, keeping Bob appeased, the occasional gifts—the money—but I didn't really like him. And I realized, since the first day he grabbed me into the alley, that I had not told him so. But, like I said before, it was so hard to tell him, because I know by now he really liked me, in his odd, absent way.

By the time that school was weeks closer to an ending, I noticed an odd air come over everyone at PS 118, at least in the upper el. Usually, when I passed in the hallway, there would be an incessant chattering, presumably about me and Jemie or something. Now, it was totally different. I would pass by in the halls and a hush would settle over them, like a heavy blanket of fog, and it would stay there until I was well out of hearing range. I ignored it until my own teacher, Ms. Lawry, did that to me one day. That infuriated me. I didn't have to confront anyone about it though; they questioned me first.

The Princess Wellington-Lloyd was the first one to speak to me after weeks. Lately, I had started coming to class early after lunch to get a head start on the homework…I don't know why…it was like I was becoming a braniac or something. Anyway, I was sitting in my seat in the front row when Rhonda and the gang, including Nadine, Sheena and Lila, walked into the classroom and occupied the seats surrounding me. I glanced up at their little assembly, and then looked back at my work.

"Oh, come on, Helga. Don't act like you all of a sudden can't talk to anybody," Rhonda finally said, after a few moments of silent curiosity. This broke the ice. 

I gently put down my pencil and glared back at her. "_Me_, huh? So you think _I'm_ the one whose been avoiding talking to people. Please," I said, taking my assignment and putting it in the homework tray. "It's like, do I have the chance? Every time I walk through the halls, it's like people are scared of me or something. If you really want to talk to me, you can do like you just did now…move your lips, vibrate your vocal chords, and hope what comes out of your mouth is coherent. Simple as that," I concluded, before leaning back in my chair and folding my arms.

Nadine looked at Rhonda, whose mouth was agape, like I had just told her to burn in hell or something, and continued the conversation. "Well, I think what Rhonda meant to say, Helga, is that you've changed, and that she was just wondering if you were okay," Nadine filled in.

Rhonda snapped out of her indignation just in time to respond. "Yeah, but I wouldn't call it wondering…maybe just curiosity. I mean, everyone knows about you and Jeremy Fischer, of course," Rhonda said, grinning wildly.

I didn't know what she was getting at, so I continued. "Yeah, of course," I narrowed my eyes at her, to let her know that I was suspicious of her motives.

"And well, ever since that money exchange incident, I notice you seem to be more accepting of him, and…I was just curious as to how _serious_ a couple you guys really are, what with the money and all…" I barely heard those words, because I immediately got mad. I mean, furious. The turn beat red instantly mad. No one was supposed to know about that.

I interrupted Rhonda. "What!" I screamed. Ms. Lawry wasn't there, so I stood up and picked up Rhonda by her collar. I could tell this surprised her, because we were relatively the same height and same weight; she never would have expected me lifting her. Hell, I didn't expect it either. "Tell me, _Princess_, where'd you get this information from?"

"Please Helga…this is my new Caprini denim jacket…you're ruining my collar," she exclaimed with a shaky voice, beginning to get nervous. 

I scowled at her. "Look at my face; does it look like I care?" I then lifted her higher. "Tell me!"

"Okay, okay, I found it out from Harold who heard it from Arnold who was told by Gerald who got it from Phoebe," she spat. Just as she said this, Phoebe walked into the room. "There now, are you happy, or would you rather have this in paper?" I ignored Rhonda, and dropped her to the floor. "Well…I…" but for once, the Princess didn't have a come back. The rest of the girls watched me as I approached Phoebe, as they were afraid about what I was going to do.

Phoebe, who probably caught the tail end of our discussion, was already in the defensive. "Helga, I'm _really_ sorry. I just felt it was necessary to…"

"What, Phoebs, what? What was so necessary that you had to go blabbing it up, huh?" I said to her, harshly. Phoebe shrunk under me, like I had never seen her do before. Usually, even though she was soft spoken, she would be more assertive towards me. But she shrunk, as if I had dissolved her or something. "Jeez, now the whole world knows…thanks to you, _Phoebe_." On that note, I stomped out of the room and went down the hall. I slowed a little when I heard Phoebe's soft sobs, but I couldn't bring myself to turn back.

The next person I met in the hallway was Harold. As I stalked towards the stairs of the school, Harold started walking along side me. He began talking softly as I approached the staircase. "Helga, I know what I think may not mean a whole lot to you, but I just have to say this," he began, staring down at his feet as he walked. "I think you should dump that Jeremy guy so things can get back to normal…" he said, and then stopped abruptly. As I began to go down the stairs, I glared back at Harold. He was eyeing me through the corners of his eyes, not really looking at me directly.

"Who said I actually _was_ going out with him, Harold," I said. Harold hung his head as I left, as if he had failed or something. I did not look back.

Gerald was the next one to tag along with me as I walked out of the school. I was still going down stairs when he caught up to me. "Hey Helga, could you stop a minute and just listen to what I have to say," he shouted as he ran down the steps to my level.

I grunted, "I didn't stop for anyone else—what makes _you_ so special?"

"I know you may find it hard in that mind of yours to comprehend this, but that guy, Jeremy Fischer, he's no good, man," Gerald said in his usual, straightforward, way.

I slowed my walking as if I were interested and looked at Gerald. "Oh, is that so?"

Gerald nodded. "Yeah, it is. He may be the most popular boy in the sixth grade, but I have my own sources that can outline his criminal history. Like, did you ever wonder _why_ he was almost sent to Juvi?"

I stopped in my tracks and narrowed my eyes at Gerald. "Phoebe put you up to this, didn't she?" I asked him, before leaving him on the steps. "She must have; you don't care anything about me, do you?"

"This guy is _that bad_, Helga, that bad," Gerald said in a final attempt to sway my attention. It didn't work. By now I was on the first floor, ready to exit through the main doors of PS 118. As I walked, I listened to my footsteps against the tile, and listened to the sound of being utterly alone. And it was beautiful…I had realized that between sleep and class, Jemie had not given me a moment's rest, and it was really getting to me. But, I could not cherish that solitude for very long…I felt a hand pulling at my arm, and immediately I was swept into a corner.

The grasp was on an old bruise that I had forgotten. "Hey, watch it…that was my bruise," I said, rubbing my arm before looking up. It was Arnold. This really surprised me, especially since I hadn't even really _seen_ him since that day he asked about Jemie and I. "Arnold…" I managed to utter.

From the looks of Arnold's face, he felt just as awkwardly as I did. "Helga…it's like, I'm at a loss of words here. I truly don't know what to say," he began, looking me directly in the eye, something that I was not used to.

I didn't feel like standing there and enduring the eye contact, so I started to leave. "Well, it's no wonder, because you really _don't_ have anything to say to me, Arnold…" I said, and I turned toward the entrance of the door. Before I could leave, Arnold grabbed me again. This time on another bruised spot. "Hey, watch the contact, bucko!"

"Somehow, it seems like that's the only way to get your attention, Helga," Arnold said sharply, eyeing me again.

I rubbed my arm, as that bruise had been of a newer injury, and it still hurt. "Well, I think that perhaps a less primitive mode of communication…like _talking_…would be more effective," I growled, turning away from him and gingerly treating my bruise.

Arnold walked around me so that I was facing him, somehow forcing me to look at him. "You don't like being pushed around, do you?" he asked me, his eyes narrowing even more. Even though I was slightly startled by this sudden interaction, I did not want to hint at it. I averted my eyes so Arnold could not see the fear in my eyes.

"To hell I don't, Arnold!" I said, a little less assertively than usual.

Arnold then folded his arms. "Then, why do you let Jeremy do it?" Ooh, he had caught me. I didn't know which way to turn, what path to take in the conversation. Yes, I let Jeremy get away with more than he ought to have, and yes, that was what our entire "relationship" was based on…him doing things that I did not want him to do. But, as I had been doing all day, I wanted to avoid that topic.

"You know, Arnold, it is really none of your business…" I began.

"Oh, but it is," Arnold interrupted. Even though I wanted to leave then, I didn't. I wanted to hear what Arnold had to say. "It's my business because people I care about are getting hurt over this thing. Like Phoebe…she got threatened by Jeremy to stay away from you, basically so that he could have you all to himself, I guess." With this revelation, my mouth dropped open. Was this why Phoebe no longer called, stopped my house, or anything? And, although I knew Jeremy was a questionable character in the first place, I never suspected him of threatening. "And Harold…when Jeremy found out that you two normally go the Wrestle Mania together, he bribed him for his tickets. And all of the guys can testify to being lined up and told to stay away from you, or else…"

My mind was reeling as Arnold told me all of this. All of a sudden, everything seemed to connect. Why the chatter of curiosity all of a sudden became hushed silence. Why all of the guys I usually associated with had shied away from me. Why everyone was all of a sudden shunning me for whatever it was between Jeremy and I. But, I was stubborn…I didn't want anyone to be able to be credited with saving me, because I felt that I really wasn't in any trouble. So, when Arnold finished, I turned up my nose. "Oh, I see. You were never really caring about me and how I felt about this whole thing, were you Arnold?"

Arnold shook his head a little less than patiently. "No, I didn't say that…"

I ignored him. "You just want to right everything that's been wronged in that head of yours, don't you? You won't rest until everything in your goody-goody world is back to the way it was…"

"Just quit it, Helga! All I know is that a lot of people I care about are being hurt through this whole thing, and unlike _you_, I'm not going to stand around and watch it happen," Arnold finally concluded, by now looking wildly at me. It was such a climax to our conversation, it almost felt like we were both breathing heavily, gasping for a breath that we already had. I really had nothing else to say to Arnold; he had successfully had the last word. I silently turned from him and walked out of the school.

While I walked down the steps of the school, I could hear Arnold shouting after me. I ignored him and sat on the base of the steps of PS 118. I shut out all sounds for a while, until I tuned back in and Arnold was gone. I figured he had given up on me as a lost cause and walked back to Ms. Lawry's. I stared at my feet, avoiding looking at the clouds for fear that my eyes would burst with tears…tears of intense anger. I successfully held them back, not quite knowing what I was angry about. I remained on the base of the steps of the school until the warning bell rang, and I had to go back to class.

Jeremy came to dinner that night. He actually had gotten to my house before I did. I finally got a chance to steal away, and I took a walk in the park and really thought about what Arnold had said. I did all of that thinking to come to the conclusion that I was going to do what I damn well pleased anyway, no matter what anyone else thought of it. While I was walking, I looked up at the sky again, and noticed how the lower clouds lowered the ceiling. There were those few wispy clouds high in the sky, but even they were blocked by the heavier, darker clouds hovering overhead. The clouds traveled slowly, one casting a shadow over me momentarily as I walked out of the park. I stopped in my tracks and glared up at the cloud, as if my eyes alone could dissolve the cloud away…

And my thoughts were interrupted by Big Bob, banging his fist on the table and laughing raucously. Jeremy was joining in his laughter, and Miriam looked like she wanted to puke. Once reawakened to the present, I sighed and began to stir my untouched food absently, until everything was combined and no longer looked like separate entities anymore. I sometimes looked up at Miriam, who switched her glares between me and Jeremy the entire time we were eating. I noticed that she was even more alert than she had been on previous times that Jeremy came to dinner, and I was about to find out why.

"Did you here me?" Jeremy said, his voice suddenly coming through the fog of my preoccupation.

I looked up from my food, drowsily, my eyes half closed. "Huh? I didn't catch that," I said, forcing myself back into reality and out of my thoughts.

Jeremy eyed me strangely before he asked me again. "I said, where were you all today? I barely saw you at all," he repeated, taking a huge spoonful of food and scooping it into his mouth.

On that note, Miriam took the napkin she had folded in her lap and slammed it onto the table, her usual ritual for excusing herself. "Well, B, as…interesting…as this conversation has gotten, I have to excuse myself," Mom lied, getting up from the table and pushing in here chair. She then walked towards me, unexpectedly. "And Helga's coming with me." Before any of us could protest or ask any questions, my mother took me by the hand and walked with me up to my room, where she closed the door gently after she was sure that Jeremy and Dad had resumed the conversation.

"Hey Mom, what's the deal? I didn't even finish my food yet," I was finally able to say, once she had closed the door. Mom completely ignored me, and sat next to me on my bed.

"Helga, I don't like this Jeremy guy, not one little bit," she said curtly, looking into my eyes. This kind of surprised me. I had not expected Mom to be so assertive. I had nothing to say at this point, so she continued. "Now, I've been watching this whole thing develop in front of my eyes for the past few weeks now, and I wanted to say something, but your father wouldn't let me. He said it would do you some good, to have a friend like Jeremy around. But, honey, trust this from a woman who knows…Jeremy is not a good friend, Helga, he's really not."

I got up from my bed and threw my hands up in the air. "Crimeny, now my own Mom's joined the campaign!" I exclaimed, beginning to pace in my room. "Do you realize how many people have told me basically just that today? The same amount of people I've told to mind their own business…"

Miriam was not moved by the beginnings of my speech. "And this is my business, Helga, because _you_ are my business," she said, getting up, and putting her arm gently around me. Even though I was in no mood for maternal nurturing, I put up with it. "Now, I'd like to think that as your mother, I at least have the responsibility to keep you from doing the same stupid things that I did at your age, perhaps older. Is that a safe assumption?"

"I guess so," I relented.

Mom nodded. "Now, honey, this may have seemed like all fun and games at the time, but it is evolving into something serious, something no one, let alone an eleven-year-old in the fifth grade, should have to deal with," she stated, fairly simply. I glared up at her, and she continued. "A relationship based on gifts, favors and money is going to go nowhere good fast…and don't ask me how I know," she said, before I could interrupt. "Jeremy is immature and possessive, and although you may not like him, at this point, you may not be able to get rid of him easily. And all of this that has happened, is going to come back to you in a big way."

I sat silently for a while, contemplating what Miriam had just said, before she interrupted my thoughts. "What ever happened to that cute little boy with the weird shaped head…Arnold?" That was the first time Miriam had actually gotten Arnold's name right. And to think of Arnold then only made me want to cry. I didn't say anything else, and my mother got up from my bed and walked towards the door.

"Well, Helga, remember what I said…" she began to whisper, as she quietly left my room. Miriam was the last one who tried to convince me that Jeremy was really bad news, but I had to be difficult…I had to learn the hard way, with one last experience that sealed my fate.

Later that same week, I left school early after having a headache, to return home to an empty house. I immediately flung my backpack to the ground in the hallway and ran up the stairs to my room. In my opinion, things could not have been worse at that point in time. Being with Jeremy was just getting to me…I didn't want to look at his face anymore, for fear that I would remember the first time he spoke to me, saying that he was interested in me. At that point, I never wanted anyone to be interested in me for the rest of my life, really.

When I got to my room, I lay on my bed and looked at my ceiling. As I looked at the pattern of the paint crisscrossed on the wall, I remembered waking up to that very same pattern, and stumbling into the dark to reach my Arnold shrine in my closet. I would awake to that pattern after feeling some kind of inspiration from my sleep, and I would go to the shrine and write down what at the time I had so deeply felt. Looking at that pattern again lulled me back to my closet, where my now rarely visited shrine lay in ruins.

It had been so long since I had refreshed my shrine, and parts of it had already crumbled away. But still the likeness of the football head stayed in tact. And revived were memories of the "I love you" and the misplaced emotions upon entering the fifth grade. Embedded in the clay of the shrine, just where I had thrown it, was the locket I used to keep in my shirt, of Arnold. I pulled out the locket and stared at it for a long time, at the image of the younger Arnold, from the beginning of the fourth grade. Somehow, I was compelled to change the picture, so I dug further in my closet to find the picture Arnold had given me at the end of the year.

As I was making my own sounds in the closet, I heard a loud banging sound coming from downstairs. I paused with my digging, and as I heard nothing else, I continued searching. I then paused indefinitely as I heard heavy footsteps trudging up the stairs. I knew it wasn't Miriam or Bob, since Miriam was off at her new job and Bob would be closing up the beeper place that night. I somehow had sense enough to close my closet and begin moving away from my door. This was all I had the chance to do, though, before the unexpected happened.

Jeremy burst through my door.

Again, I was caught totally off guard, and I hardly could find the words to say when he addressed me. "What's been up with you lately, Kid? I try to walk you home, and you're never there anymore," he said, making cheap small talk as he approached me.

I looked around, and trying not to pin myself into a corner, I began to walk around my room in circles, backwards. "H…how did you get in this house?" I was finally able to spit out.

"It was easy enough…you forgot to lock the deadbolt," Jeremy said, again with that weird look in his eye that really scared me. I then noticed that he was not looking directly at me, but at my locket. I hid it behind my back, but it was apparently too late.

I tried to get him out of the way, in the most patient manner possible. "Jeremy, I would really appreciate it if we didn't talk here…"

"Kid, I have the feeling you've been avoiding me, and I want to know why," Jeremy stated, making a final swift step towards me. But I was quicker than he was, and I was able to jump out of the way in time.

"_Get out of my room, Jeremy!_" I edged, dodging his grasp and running out of the door. This time, though, he was onto me, and he caught up with me before I could leave. He grabbed my wrists with both of his hands, then swinging me around so that he had my shoulders. At first I struggled a little, then it hurt my shoulders too much to actually move.

He held me for a while before he said anything. "What's the matter with you, Kid? After all I've done for you, talking to your folks, riding bikes with you, taking you to the movies and Wrestle Mania…and this is the thanks that I get, you running away from me?" he said. When I didn't answer, he shook me. "Look at me when I'm talking to you, huh?"

When I did look at him, I looked at him with fear lining my eyes. All of a sudden, the Jeremy I had known lashed out into this vicious monster that probably everyone at school knew, but I had never seen. Maybe I said too much through my eyes, because he let me go, as if he were disgusted with me or something. "Well anyway, it's about time you do a favor for me…"


	4. Resolution

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Hey guys! This is the final chapter of "The Sixth Grader," and I felt it was necessary to give a shout out to everyone who's reviewed so far and address any concerns. Don't worry…the story of Arnold and Helga continues after this in some of my later works, so you'll see what happens then. There might be another fic coming in between "How Long is Forever, Arnold?" but for now, that is the follow-up story.

Erm…okay, so the shout outs…first of all, thank you to everyone who read, and I was glad I was able to provide for you some type of entertainment.

SilverChocolate…hehe, so you see exactly what happened between Helga and Jeremy…and now, you will see how Arnold reacts. All-out jealousy is very Arnold-like, but…eh, you'll see the signs by the end of this chapter.

And to Briana…whether or not Jeremy is really evil or a victim of the system is left up to the reader, heh. But, he doesn't necessarily have to be evil…I leave his character really ambiguous on purpose. You'll see what I mean in this chapter.

And TADAH! Hey, long time no chat with, huh? Hehe. And no, this is not Brainy, as you have discovered. Brainy had his sole mention in the beginning…where he was the rest of the time…eh, let's just say Jeremy scared him off, heh.

Starlet…the money remains a mystery…but no! it's not a plot hole, hehe…just left up to the imagination of the readers. Arnold's jealousy…well, you can judge for yourself after you read this chapter. And Phoebe's virus…hehe. I meant_ for it to be ambiguous like that…you decide._

Snow Lane…a Kim's Board Gal! Hi! I'm glad you liked the story, and I hope you like the ending.

And thanks to everyone else for reading and reviewing…Serena, Bunni, chello, fan fic reader, laura, kitkatkid, helgastwin and shadowkittie. Let me know, any readers, what you thought of the story ultimately. And I'll be back with another story in the near future. Peace!

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Part IV: Resolution

As soon as he had come, Jeremy was gone from my house. Before I could catch my breath, that which he had taken from me in a wanton act, I heard the door slamming downstairs, and him loudly descending the porch steps and onto the sidewalk of our street. Once all sounds of him were gone, I slid down the hallway wall and sat in that position for a while, my head pounding, my mind reeling and my eyes searching as if an explanation could come from the walls opposite me. After a few moments, I crawled into my room, gently closed the door behind me, then crawled into my closet where I stayed for steady reflection.

And, indeed, I reflected. I reflected upon what Jeremy had just said, what he had implied, what he had done…what he knew about me. Not only that, but how much that which he knew meant to me. I don't know…lately, I didn't value much of anything that much, but his favor, his threat---his force---brought me back to the reality of my feelings. This was so much a part of my life, I couldn't let it go, at least not now, and at least not for Jeremy. And the closet was the best place to stay, and I put back together the pieces of my life that I forcefully shattered repeatedly since the beginning of this school year.

Mom probably wanted to know what was going on, and maybe I should have told. But, since Jeremy walked out of that door, I resolved to tell no one. And really, it was really not anyone else's business what had happened…I got myself into this mess, I was going to get myself out. And if it took me a couple of minutes, and hour…an entire day to get myself out, well by God that's what I was going to do. Everyone would have their own opinion about things, and I really couldn't tell anyone else. And as I came to minute after minute of indecision, it really took a toll on me. 

I hid in my room for the rest of the night, not even coming down for dinner. Although Mom was worried to death about me, I had locked the door so no one could come in. While Mom and Dad stirred downstairs, I was busy writing drafts…drafts of what I was going to say to Jeremy, that I couldn't possibly do what he had asked me to. But all of the drafts were no good. And I had until sundown the next day to perfect them.

Holding back tears gave me a headache, but I couldn't bring myself to cry, not just yet. I had pretty much exhausted all of my other resources, and there was only one other place that I was halfway sure I could gain a little guidance. I emerged from my closet and returned to my bed, picked up my phone and dialed the all too familiar number that I had never dared to call.

"Hello?" the monotone voice said. Arnold himself answered the phone.

"Hey Arnold? Listen, it's me…Helga," I said hurriedly, for fear that my Dad would randomly pick up the phone line and hear something he wasn't supposed to hear.

I could sense Arnold's confusion over the phone. "Helga? You're actually calling me?"

"Yeah, yeah, yeah, it's me all right," I affirmed. "Listen, I know this is kinda late, and kinda random, but I really need your advice on something serious."

Arnold paused for a moment before responding. "Okay, I'm listening."

I thought of how to put it in the mildest way possible, without hinting at anything. "Okay…it's about Jeremy…he's asking me to do something that, well…I just can't do it, Arnold, I can't. And I don't know what to say to him."

"Just tell him that you can't do it."

"Crimeny, are you listening? I said that I can't!"

"Why not? Is it because you like him or something?" Arnold said, his voice lowering by the end of the phrase.

"How many times must I say that, no, I do _not_ like him!" I exclaimed, exasperated for having to explain this again.

"Well, what is it then?" Arnold finally asked, a little bit of persistence in his voice. "The Helga Pataki I knew wouldn't have let this carry on for so long…she would have told Jeremy straight up that she didn't like him, and this thing would have been over with by now. That's because that Helga Pataki knew exactly what she wanted from life and how she was going to go about getting it."

I sighed. "I tried in the beginning, Arnold, but this guy's persistent…"

Arnold's voice quickened as we continued talking. "That wouldn't have stopped you before, Helga," Arnold said. 

"I know, Arnold, but…you're so sure about things all of the time, right? Are you sure I'm the same Helga?"

"If you _are_ the same Helga that refused to listen to me the other day, yeah, that's you."

"Arnold seriously, if you knew what he was asking, and how much it apparently means to me…"

"What can be that hard to answer, Helga?" he finally shouted. We were both going in circles at this point, so Arnold ended the cycle. "Look, here's what you should do. You should tell Jeremy the truth, that you never really liked him, and that you can't do whatever he asked you to do. If you really don't like him, and if you would rather not continue with whatever relationship you two have, that shouldn't be hard to do…"

"Is that it?" I asked, expecting Arnold to come up with some elaborate plan.

"Yeah, pretty much. You can add your own flourish to dress it up with you want to."

"But what if it really doesn't work, Arnold, what then?"

"Honesty is the best policy, Helga…it should work," Arnold said quietly. 

I forgot how we ended that conversation…how I said goodbye, how he did, which one of us hung up first, or how we hung up. All I remember is waking up in my clothes from the previous day, to bright sunlight. Bright sunlight with a cloudless sky, something that perhaps offered me hope for what the new day would bring.

I waited for Jeremy in the alley behind the back lot of my house that day at sundown. I'd told him the day before to meet me here, in the same place we'd met, so I could answer his question. And in the process of making my final decision, I did a lot of thinking.

As I left my house, I stared up at the clear blue sky with the wispy clouds…stratus or something like that, as Phoebe always corrected me. As I walked to the alley, several visions flooded back into my mind. I saw Jeremy's eyes the first day we had spotted each other. I saw the concern in Phoebe's eyes after the money exchange deal, and again the same concern and anguish that filled her eyes after I dismissed her. Then there was Miriam, sitting stiffly at the dinner table as she waited impatiently for dinner with Jeremy to end. Harold, hanging his head after I passed him, Gerald making a sincere attempt to reason with me although we both knew we weren't necessarily fond of each other. And of course there was Arnold…the remembrance of him was indescribable. Then there was me, staring at myself in the mirror when I was finally able to bring myself out of the closet after Jeremy left. My own reflection scared me that day, but in my eyes I read something that I hadn't seen in almost a year, and that made me smile and shed tears of happiness, at least inside. 

I tripped in a hole in the weedy lot behind my house, which brought me out of the flashback, and I discovered I was not headed towards the alley, but into a fence. I snapped out of it and walked to the alley and continued to ponder everything.

I of course factored everything Miriam said, about me just turning eleven and everything, and him being too immature and all. But, I also thought about myself. I thought about the time before this had all happened, with Phoebe and I walking home, how I felt a lonely tinge whenever she would talk about Gerald, or when I would see couples in the hall. I thought about how that tinge would possibly never be there again, if I kept up this charade. I thought about all of my experiences with boys, and however displeasing this one had been, it compared to no other. Jeremy really cared about me, in his own absent, perverted way, and if he hadn't been the first to care, he had been the first to express interest. And that made me feel special, in an odd way. It gave me an strange confidence in myself, that someone could acutally want me, for exactly who I was…

"Hey, Kid, before you tell me what you've decided, I have something to say," Jeremy's voice suddenly broke through my thoughts. I looked up to see him standing there, sheepishly, with his hands behind his back. There was a short pause between his phrases, and I leaned against the wall and waited for what he had to say. "I'm sorry about yesterday…I was off, I know, I should have never done that, you know, breaking into your house and slapping you around like that. That was my bad, and I'll make sure it won't happen again…"

I nodded solemnly, and looked straight into Jeremy's eyes. "Yeah, it won't happen again…because there will be no next time, or even tomorrow for that matter," I said flatly, folding my arms.

Jeremy shrugged. "So, I'm guessin' the answer is no, huh?"

I walked away from the wall I was leaning against, and walked towards Jeremy. "Jeremy, when you asked me to forget about Arnold and go out with you, you were asking me something that I could truly never do," I explained to him calmly. "I'll never forget Arnold, because his was such a big part of my life. And even though you claim to know all this stuff about me, I know you can never know the half of it."

"But this Arnold guy avoids you all the time now, didn't you say that for yourself?" Jeremy asked.

"Yes, but the difference is that I like Arnold in a way that I don't like you, Jeremy, and that is the second reason that I can't," I retorted, unfolding my arms. "I've being hanging out with you, letting you take me places, taking your money…letting you barge into my house and disrupt my family basically because I didn't know what else to say. For one, you're fairly forceful. But second of all, I guess I just liked the idea of someone falling for me---instead of the other way around. But Jeremy, you were like a packaged deal that came with a life I don't want to live…that of infamy, mystery and lawlessness. I don't like that, and I can't keep this up anymore," I finally concluded, looking back at Jeremy for a response.

Jeremy was a little struck by this, but once again, had little to say. "Whoa…un-cool," he said, scratching the back of his head. "Well, I guess I can accept that, and I guess I should have expected this, from _you_," he said, glancing at me before staring at the ground. I didn't say anything else, as I watched him walk out of the alley to the street that would take him home. "But, all those things I said about you, I still think are true, Helga," he said finally, walking off in the distance. I watched as only a silhouette of his figure sulked into the distance, after passing a dying street lamp, and rounding a corner. I would see Jeremy at school until the end of the year, but from then on, never again.

I went home promptly after the whole Jeremy deal was settled and had dinner with my parents…a rare occasion in which we were without the company of Jeremy. Once again, our dinner conversations had been reduced to a minimum to nothing, and all that could be heard was our chewing. Well, everything was back to normal…almost.

"Hey Helga, what happened to that Jeremy kid? He was becoming a regular around here, and I haven't seen him around in a while," Bob suddenly asks, quite loudly and upsetting the delicate balance of the dinner table. With this, both Miriam and I perked up, me joining her in looking around the table as if we hadn't noticed.

I shrugged as I cleaned my plate and got up from the table to put my plate in the sink. "I don't know, Dad, but somehow I think he's not going to be showing up for dinner anymore," I hinted, returning to the dinner table and standing in my spot. With that comment, Mom's eyes widened and she looked at me, asking the question that everyone else would probably ask tomorrow.

Bob slumped a little. "Oh, well, that's a shame. I was just getting to like the boy," Bob said sighing, before shrugging it off and continuing to eat. I looked back at Mom, answering her question, and she then smiled at me, her eyes softening simultaneously. I smiled back, and immediately there was a silent understanding between us.

"Dad, Mom, is it alright if I go outside to sit on the porch a little bit? It's kinda warm outside, and the night is _so_ nice…"

Miriam answered my question before Bob could say anything. "Well, sure, Helga, I don't see why not," she answered, giving me the go-ahead. I then grinned and rushed out of the door, hearing Bob ask Miriam what that was all about and what would be for tomorrow's dinner in the same breath.

That night, I wasn't at ease, so after a few moments on the porch I went for a walk. There was so much I needed to do, so much I needed to say to patch up all that had been flung into disarray during the Jeremy era. Although it was quite impossible for me to care less, I had to restore relations with Rhonda, because I never knew when her connections would come in handy. I would have to apologize to Harold, and soon, because the next Wrestle Mania match was the next weekend, and I had no tickets. Of course, there was Phoebe…and before I thought about it any longer, I headed to the nearest payphone, pulled a couple of quarters out of my pocket, and dialed up her number.

I tapped my finger impatiently on the glass in the payphone booth as I waited for someone to pick up. I knew Phoebe wouldn't be out this late, and that she didn't have caller ID, so she should have answered the phone. So, finally, when the message recording of her own personal line came in, I left my message after the beep.

"Hey Phoebe, it's me, Helga. But, then again you probably know that from all of the messages I've left at your place throughout the years, all of the emergencies and secret operations and…" I stopped abruptly, hoping that she would pick up now, no one did. "Anyway, I'll just cut to the chase here. Look Phoebs, I know I was in the wrong when I lashed out on you for telling and for refusing to speak with you for all that time. Me, of all people, should have known better than to get myself into such a situation like with that Jeremy character. But listen, Phoebs…it's okay if you don't want to talk to me immediately or anything, because I understand. Not that you would pull a stunt like this, but I would have probably done the same thing to you. Hell, I probably would have squealed a lot louder than you did."

Again, I waited for someone to pick up, but I heard nothing. "It's just my hope, Phoebe, that someday you will forgive me, and when that day comes, believe me, I'll have to thank you more than I'm going to do know, seriously. If only I had realized your concern then…maybe none of this would have happened. I dunno. If you're listening now, just letting you know that I would talk longer, but I'm on a payphone a few blocks from my house, and I don't want to stay here too much longer before another weirdo pounces on me and stalks me for the rest of my life," I chuckled, before hanging up the phone.

I knew the drill. Phoebe was probably sitting in her room by her message machine, listening to what I said and taking it into deep consideration. That's what she always did when we had little squabbles and misunderstandings. It was a rare occasion for me to apologize for anything…readily at least, so I know she must have enjoyed it. I smiled as I continued down the sidewalk away from the payphone.

As relieving as this message to Phoebe was, I had a goal more immediate in mind that night. Something more urgent, that had been waiting the whole year to be resolved.

As I walked, I stared up at the sky. Although I walked swiftly the stars remained stationary, what few stars were visible over the city lights. The sky was boundless, as there were no clouds. The lack of clouds made the night slightly brisk, which made me walk even faster. I was so absorbed in the height of the ceiling that I ran into something as I walked, and fell to the ground.

When I sat up, I looked up just in time to see Arnold, lying opposite me. He was already getting up, but I was still sitting on the ground, staring up at him. He extended his hand, and I grabbed it and returned to my feet. As soon as I was up on my feet, I fell into his expectant arms for a long embrace. I don't recall where we bumped into each other, or how long I hugged him, but I remember I did. It was our way of expressing our gratitude/appreciation wordlessly, while also making up for a one-year hiatus in our relationship.

But the hug ended too soon and too soon Arnold and I were separating again. We stood back from one another, looking at each other before either of us spoke. It was Arnold, who in the awkwardness of our confrontation finally said something.

"So, Helga, I assume everything went well?" he asked, averting his eyes shyly and kicking his foot against a small stone. I chuckled a little, and watched as the rock traveled across the sidewalk and into the street.

I nodded before answering. "Yeah, I guess you could say that," I answered, before leaving another awkward silence. "I let Jeremy go, Arnold. And," I said, trying to keep my stream of thoughts going before being interrupted by Arnold's enthusiastic smile, "I know that's what everyone, including you, has been telling me all along, but…I just had to decide for myself. And, that whole favor thing was really the straw that broke the camel's back, if you know what I'm saying?"

"Yeah," Arnold hesitated, rubbing the back of his neck as we spoke. I could tell there was something on his mind, but he didn't want to say it.

"Arnold?" I asked, before he volunteered the information.

"Helga, all that stuff about…you know, Jeremy asking you to do something you didn't want

to do. I'm just a little bit curious…if you don't mind…"

I should have known that was coming. And once he had asked the question, I began to turn the question over in my mind…to tell or not to tell. I finally decided that it would be safer for Arnold not to know the gravity that his counsel helped in our relationship. I decided not to tell him.

"Well, let's just say that, if I said yes, I would have to lose relationships with people that I cared for a great deal, and I wasn't willing to do that…for Jeremy or anyone for that matter," I explained, getting around the real thing he asked.

Arnold nodded as if he finally understood. "He asked you to be his girlfriend, didn't he?"

Relieved that he didn't know the entire story, I simply nodded. "Yeah, sure…" I nodded, giggling awkwardly. Both of us did, before entering another nervous silence.

"Well, I'm glad you did, Helga…I can't tell you how glad I am you did," Arnold finally said, looking up at me, his eyes twinkling in the bright moonlight. And I couldn't help but smile, because I knew that, at that instant, relations between Arnold and I were restored in much the same way that they had been nearly a year ago when they were broken…giggly and awkward. For once, I had made a decision I did not regret.

After departing from Arnold…somehow, I can never remember our goodbyes anymore, I walked slowly back to my house, because I knew it was getting late. And in my mind lingered thoughts about all I had just done, the mistakes I made and how I was able to fix them. In my mind were the genuine smiles of those I really cared for…my mother, really proud of me for getting myself out of the Jeremy situation. Phoebe, although I didn't see her or hear her, smiling in her room as she listened to her message. Arnold, smiling at me when he heard the news that I know set his soul free…and then, although I didn't expressly see it, there was mine.

I really cared about myself, though it was not necessarily expressed in words or anything, it was all there. And I resolved that, when I got home to my books of poetry, I would document this moment in time to remember forever. It was that special.

And by that time, I realized, as I said earlier, that this was an experience I would love for the rest of my life because I learned so much more about myself from the whole Jeremy experience. And I would hate it for the rest of my life because it was so stressful while it lasted, filled with anger, sadness and agony. Finally able to breathe on my own without someone there to catch my ever breath, I was free. And I realized that sharp tinge that I often felt was gone…there was Jeremy and there _is_ Arnold, I realized. And no longer did I have that feeling that someone was following me. Yes, I was alone, but I wasn't, because…it was like a presence was now with me, inside of me, instead of lurking around on the outside. We didn't know it yet, but we were one step closer to destiny, but I could feel it from deep within me. It was a powerful feeling, that chilled an burned at the same time. Extreme elation and sorrow for what to come, combined into one emotion burst from my heart. In a need to relieve it, I began to cry.

And I cried joyously and bitterly all the way home.


End file.
